


In Memoriam

by ZiriO



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Female Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Gen, Grief/Mourning, Miqo'te (Final Fantasy XIV), Miqo'te Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-12 04:58:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19940584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZiriO/pseuds/ZiriO
Summary: One of the many things they never warn the new adventurers about is that loss walks hand-in-hand with victory. Another thing they never explain is how one is meant to handle that loss, as each person's grief is personal.Still, one will always honor the fallen in their own way.





	In Memoriam

**Author's Note:**

> Hello starshines! Once again it is I, ZiriO, spilling out of the void with old stories I wrote ages ago (this one in particular is from mid-2016) to prove that 1) I have not been devoured by whatever mysterious forces have kept me from writing and 2) because I am so overwhelmingly full of Shadowbringer feelings that I feel like I am going to burst. I will likely be posting older pieces until I'm able to write new things again, but I hope you enjoy these anyway! I am rather fond of them.

"To the fallen!"

The first time she'd heard those words had been in passing, eyes wide in the murky light in the Quicksand at evening time, ushered quickly away by the person who was guiding her about Ul'dah. It had been little more than a curiosity, puzzling in that moment and quickly forgotten.

"To the fallen!"

The first time she'd heard those words said about someone she knew, she'd been slow to lift her cup, numb from shock, fingers still trembling. She had helped carry the body of their fallen comrade, the ride back to town had been grim and lost in a haze of her own tears. She'd said the words in reply, but her heart and mind still reeled at the loss, unable to wrap themselves about them with the full gravity of the violence that had happened. So quickly had they been snatched away, laughing and jesting but moments before the attack, and struck down in a moment of inattentiveness. It had felt like a physical blow, punched clean through her chest and leaving an awful, chill ache behind.

It was then that a thought began to creep into her mind, taking root in the cold of her heart. _Never again,_ it whispered. _Never again._

" _To the fallen!_ "

The first time she'd said those words herself, it had been a battlecry. A shout of defiance with fangs bared that had been answered by a roar about her as the entire tavern stood with flagons raised. The sounds of chairs scraping, mugs slamming against solid oak as a testament to how many had been lost. How many had been snatched from grasping fingers, lost to wave and sand and forest. Those who had been broken upon stone and valley and cobblestone alleyway. It was a shout that echoed in too many hearts, too many faces a mirror of her own anger at their loss.

"To the fallen. May they burn bright amidst the darkness, a flame eternal in the Lifestream's flow." The first time she'd written those words, it had been like lancing a wound. The names were too many to count, but they'd filled pages, each record brought to mind a face, a laugh, a nervous little twitch of fingers that had once been so familiar but was fading day by day from memory. So she lit the incense, laying her book of names before the smoke and burning flames of the candles before she bowed her head to pray.

_To the fallen, may they never be forgotten._


End file.
